like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

you have a beautiful account btw

Picture

it is hopeful

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.


This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

yes

...

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

hiding from the rain